


The Future is Unwritten Epilogue

by empiricallypossible



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empiricallypossible/pseuds/empiricallypossible
Summary: Okay Jack and Llewellyn deserved their own epilogue in 13x18 and so I attempted to write one.(Mentions of blood in relation to cleaning up injuries and also the period typical homophobia)
Relationships: Jack Walker/Llewellyn Watts
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	The Future is Unwritten Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> At the beginning of this work 99% of the dialogue is taken directly from the episode but once Edwards leaves Brackenreid's office all dialogue is my own.

"And if you're looking for your friend from last night, he's in the cells at Station House One." Edwards may as well have slapped Watts across the face for the effect the words had on him.  _ In the cells. Jack in the cells. Again.  _

"And this isn't over,  _ Detective _ ." He spat the last word, as if it made him sick to say it, "not by a long shot." Then he snatched up the bottle of wine and threw it to the floor where it shattered into millions of tiny pieces. Watts shoved his chair backwards in an attempt to avoid the flying shards. 

He didn't register Edwards leaving. Didn't register all the constables stopping to stare. Didn't register anything at all until he was halfway across town throwing the doors to station house one open. 

He didn't ask to be allowed entry to the cells. And nobody at his old station house saw fit to stop him. 

What he saw when he got down the stairs made his heart constrict. 

The place was noisy. His old station house had always pulled in a great deal of criminals. The cells were  _ never  _ empty. Not like they usually were at station house four. 

The problem wasn't the noise. The problem was Jack's face. 

One eye was so swollen it was shut. An array of cuts littered his face, most still letting blood flow freely from them. Upon first examination, the deepest appeared to be just above his left eyebrow, the blood oozing from it covering the swollen eye. Bruises were already blossoming across his cheek bones, blood clotted beneath his nose, his lips- ones Watts had kissed in an alleyway just two nights ago- were split. If Watts were a man of a different temperament he would already have turned on his heel and gone in search of Edwards. To murder him.

He slipped his hand through the bars that separated them and gently reached for Jack's arm. 

"I'll tell the Inspector. He'll get you out. I'll get you out, I promise." 

"Llewellyn,  _ no.  _ You can't be implicated. They'll get you too, they'll take your badge for this." 

"I don't care. I don--"

"You're a  _ detective. _ " As Jack spoke Watts noted the blood between his teeth. The way he didn't even wince.  _ He's used to this _ , he thought, and his blood boiled. "Don't throw that away." 

"Edwards already suspects me." 

"Let him. I'll tell anyone who will listen that you were immune to my advances." 

" _ No--"  _

"Llewellyn,  _ please _ ." 

"No, I'll get you out." He drew Jack closer then, so that they were both pressed against the bars. "I'll come back for you, I promise." Then with one last squeeze of his arm, he turned and ran. 

***

Watts flew into the Inspector's office after the briefest of knocks and threw himself down into one of the chairs opposite the desk without even taking off his coat. 

"Jack Walker is being held in custody in Station One's cells." 

Brackenreid, who had been settling down to his mountain of paperwork, looked up over his reading glasses. Watts was an eccentric man, he knew, but the passion he had for the freedom of the Inspector's butcher seemed unusual even for him. He saw the detective had left his office door open and tried not to bristle at it. 

"On what charge?" 

Watts faltered, as if he couldn't articulate the words, "Indecency." 

"Well," Brackenreid turned back to his paper, the topic uncomfortable given the fact he'd not pressed the charges himself after the man was cleared of murder. The fact he still did business with him. "Well, uh, I don't know what I can do about it." 

"He's a good man, Inspector." 

"If he's guilty of what he's charged with, my hands are tied." Watts stood and turned to leave, clearly dissatisfied with the response. Then he stopped. Turned back. 

"Then charge me." 

"What?" Disbelief made the word cutting in the silence that had fallen between them. 

"I am as indecent as Jack Walker. Charge me." Watts was the closest to shouting Brackenreid had ever seen him in the years the Inspector had known him. 

"You shouldn't have told me that." He muttered and dropped the paper he had been inspecting.

"Well I did." 

"Bloody hell, Watts." There was no anger in his voice, not like there had been when he had dismissed Scott. No anger but there was something else bitter, something almost like disappointment. Watts' fear that the men he worked with and respected would reject him when they found out. That the fear had been confirmed. But what did that matter now when all Watts could think about was Jack, bloody and beaten, in a cell, alone?

"Jack Walker should not be persecuted for being a human being. Nor should I. So Inspector, I leave it to you to do what you think is right." He tipped his hat and disappeared out of the door.  _ Let the Inspector give chase. Let his colleagues see him arrested. Let the people on the streets outside see him dragged away in handcuffs.  _ He didn't care. He knew who he was and who he loved. Damn the consequences. 

***

The second man to burst into his room that day was none other than Detective Edwards himself.

"You had my prisoner released." 

"I did." 

"You're aware of what he  _ is _ ?" 

"A good butcher." 

Edwards advanced then, looking like he was about to slam his hands down on the desk but thinking better of it. "You know you have another  _ butcher _ working in this station house?" 

"You're new to the position of Detective, aren't you?"

"I am." The first flicker of uncertainty since he'd stormed in.

"Well if you want to stay there, I'd advise that you leave this matter alone. I could have you out on your ear by the end of the day." 

Uncertainty turned to anger, "you condone their behaviour?" He demanded

"It's their business not ours." 

Edwards began to protest again, but Brackenreid, tired and still overwhelmed with paperwork, the thought of the whiskey he had promised himself at the end of his work enticing, cut him off. "Close the door on your way out. And  _ knock _ next time."

Edwards' jaw worked like he wanted to say more but instead he left the office as quickly as he had entered, without saying another word. 

***

Detective Watts had been sitting on a bench opposite Station House One for three and a half hours before he saw what he had been waiting for. 

A constable Watts didn't recognise threw a man Watts recognised all too well out onto the street. The man stumbled, but caught himself before he fell completely and Watts was across the street in an instant. 

"Llewellyn." Jack's voice was thick, like he'd been swallowing his own blood. 

"Not now." Watts said as he slid Jack's arm up and over his shoulder for support, "let me get you home first." 

"No." The word was hoarse, "they might--" but he didn't get any more words out, just started coughing violently. Watts handed him a handkerchief and was relieved when it came away unstained with blood. What was worse was that he didn't _ need  _ to get any more words out for Watts to understand. Jack didn't feel safe at his apartment. So Watts walked him to  _ his  _ boarding house instead. 

***

Once he had Jack safely up the stairs and inside his apartment, Watts set immediately to gently heating some water and gathering all the clean fabric he could find. Realistically they should be taking Jack to a hospital. But hospitals asked questions and called police officers when there was evidence of assault. And that would be no help. Watts suspected some hospital staff might even refuse to treat Jack should they discover the reason for the attack. 

_ No,  _ they might pay a visit to Doctor Ogden tomorrow, when Jack could manage the journey across town, but for now, Watts' attempt at cleaning him up would have to do. 

He dipped the cloth he'd made out of his undershirt into the warm water and gently cupped Jack's chin with his other hand. 

"This may sting a little." He murmured, as he began to dab gently at one of the smaller cuts along his jaw. The only sign it did sting was Jack tensing ever so slightly. 

As he worked his way through the rest of the cuts, leaving the deepest cut and swollen eye until last, the water in the bowl was rapidly turning pink. Watts' doubted he'd ever get Jack's blood out of the white material. 

He steeled himself, then dragged the cloth around in the warm, bloody water, before pressing it to the swollen eye, intending to clean the blood from the eyelid, and above the eyebrow. 

Jack reacted then, air hissing in between his teeth as his hand reflexively came up to grasp Watts' offending arm. 

"I'm sorry." Watts said quickly, removing the cloth. If the pressure on his arm was anything to go by, that had  _ hurt _ . "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you." And they both knew Watts wasn't just talking about cleaning up his injuries. They both knew Watts meant he was sorry Jack had gotten the living daylights beaten out of him. And Jack wasn't having any of it. 

"No. This isn't your fault. None of it is." 

"But if I had--" 

" _ No. _ Do you understand me?" 

Watts' wanted to argue. Knew it would be a long time before he even  _ considered  _ forgiving himself for this, but he stayed quiet. This wasn't an argument they needed to have tonight. 

"Alright." 

Jack managed an attempt at a smile. "Good. It's okay, you can carry on." 

Watts nodded, once, then continued to dab at Jack's eyes until the other man was gritting his teeth from the pain. 

"Done." Watts said softly as he dropped the cloth into the now cool and very red water. "I'll take you to see Doctor Ogden tomorrow. I'm sorry I don't have anything for the pain. I'm sorry--"

"Llew, would you please stop apologising." Jack sounded exhausted. 

"Right, of course, sorry." He cringed at himself and was about to apologise again, when Jack stood from the chair he had been sitting in, Watts moved to steady him instinctively and, in the safety of his own rooms, wrapped an arm protectively around his waist. 

"Now,  _ Detective. _ " The way Jack emphasises the word is nothing like the way Edwards had spat at him earlier, it's teasing,  _ loving _ .  _ Familiar.  _ "Would you be so kind as to escort me to bed?" 

Knowing Jack meant it only so that he could get some sleep, he obliged, walking him the short distance from the fireplace, to the single bed pushed against the far wall. 

"I'll sleep in the armchair." Watts said, as Jack relaxed back on to the bed. 

Jack looked like he wanted to argue but there wouldn't be enough space for the two of them, not when Jack was covered in bruises and his face was still so…

_ Watts couldn't find the word _ . 

He gently pressed his lips to Jack's forehead before removing his arm from his waist, and crossing to the door where he checked the lock again. Then he did the same with the window. 

When he was sure they were safe, or as safe as they could be, he pushed the armchair over to the bed so that he could be closer to Jack through the night. 

Jack held his hand out, resting it on the arm of the chair and Watts took it. It'd be uncomfortable to sleep in such a way but he didn't mind. He wouldn't mind anything if it meant he could be close to Jack. 

"Goodnight, Llewellyn." Jack whispered, as he lay back against the pillows. Watts knew Jack usually liked to sleep on his right side, slightly curled in on himself. That clearly wasn't possible tonight. He thought again of all the things he would do to Edwards, then realised he didn't want to think of him when he was home and with Jack. 

He began to rub small circles into Jack's hand, knowing he'd keep it up until the other man was asleep. "Goodnight, Mr Walker." 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to find a good way to end this and this was the best I could come up with oops  
> But thank you so much for reading!


End file.
